Ayame chan No More
by slothen
Summary: Ayame-chan is not the Ayame-chan we know anymore. A surprise reunion can bring either happiness or ruin. (a little angsty at times)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin nor it's characters.  This story is not written for profit of any kind.

            Once widowed and twice a mother, Ayame was no spring chicken by any means.  That's why Megumi's insistence that she dive back into the dating pool seemed horribly ridiculous.  She had to choke her laughter back, laughter which would have left a bitter taste in her mouth.

            "Why not, Ayame-chan?  You're still a beautiful woman, and with such a promising future!"  Megumi would always exclaim, raking back her charcoal hair now streaked with gray.  Ayame would only roll her eyes and turn her attention back to scrawling patient records, as if Megumi had never spoken.  Megumi had never been subtle about anything and it seemed to grow worse as she grew older.  Any illusion of propriety she had ever had had disappeared when her first child had been born.  Or maybe it had begun to slip from the very moment she ended up with Sagara Sanosuke.

            Inoue Ayame, after the death of her beloved grandfather, had found herself married to everyone's surprise.  She had exclaimed vehemently that marriage was not for her and medical practice was.  Everyone had shaken their heads and clicked their tongues in disappointment, remarking on Ayame's beauty and how much of a shame it would be to waste it.  Ayame had always controlled her anger somehow, although shakily.  Once in a while she had had to bite her tongue until a tiny drop of blood would assault her senses.

            It had all been so fast that Ayame hadn't had any time to settle into the marriage home before she found herself in a family way (of course she would never utter to anyone that she had gotten herself into the mess before Inoue Hiro could propose).  But he had been sweet, generous, and perhaps in love with her.  She might have fallen in love as well if she had had the time.  That hope had been cut short when a thief botched his robbery and Hiro had ended up dead on the road, an innocent bystander.  Before he left the world he had given her two children, both of them dead before birth.  Ayame fancied her husband cursed.  Two years ago it had happened, and now Ayame was fast approaching her twenty-fourth birthday (in two days to be exact), and for the life of her she could not come up with a reason to celebrate.  She hated her birthday anyway.  What was it but a paltry excuse to get drunk on sake?  What was it but a celebration of a person who had done nothing but avoid death for another year?

            Despite her bitterness the younger men and the older (much older) men still came to call, and always left disappointed.  Often she would find her male patients either blushing furiously or turning pale when she lifted their yukata to apply a bandage or had to rub a joint and ask them if it hurt too much.  Not long after Hiro died, an old man had grabbed her hand and pressed it roughly to his erection, gazing at her imploringly.  Sickened, she had prescribed his medication and had nearly shoved him through the shoji and out of her sight.  The thought of anyone, even the nice and handsome men, inside her the way Hiro had been offended her.  And so she had found herself celibate for two years and that had suited her fine.  She didn't need to see another midwife snipping off the umbilical cord of a baby who would never breathe or touch the soft skin that was only warm because her blood still covered it.  One boy and one girl who should have been walking happily by her side through the market were dead and buried and she, alone, who had never heard their cries still lived.

            Oguni Ayame and Inoue Ayame were two completely different people.


	2. A Woman With a Mission

            Quick note- ages in this little piece of fiction may not fit in with the original storyline.  This is a spur of the moment fic and I didn't take the time to research.  Apologies for any minor annoyance.

            Part I

            Tea with Suzume had started to become a chore for Ayame.  Every Tuesday and Friday was filled with Suzume's empty laughter and meaningless banter.  Her younger sister could speak of nothing but her new young husband.  Having been married only six months before, it was understandable to Ayame.  That didn't mean she enjoyed it, though.

            Her closest playmate and confidant in childhood had become someone she would rather avoid in adulthood.  It was so pathetic and sad it made Ayame want to cry, and Ayame hadn't cried since that day she saw Hiro's body hoisted up and carried away by a policeman.

            "Don't you agree, nee-san?" Suzume's childlike voice rang through Ayame's thoughts like a bell, and Ayame quelled her first reaction, which would have been to roll her eyes like a teenager.

            "Excuse me, Suzume-chan.  What was that you said?" Ayame asked politely.  She lifted her teacup to her lips, so she'd have something to do with her hands.  Suzume stared at her for a minute, looking deep in thought.

            "It wasn't that important.  You seem distracted today, nee-san.  Should I come back another time?"  Ayame stopped herself from nodding vigorously and exclaiming 'YES!  Try me next year!' and instead told Suzume that she wasn't feeling so well today.

            "You've been working too much, Ayame!  Isn't it time you rested, perhaps even go out for a night on the town, sometime?  Natsu and I would enjoy it if you came by our house for dinner—"

            "I'm not really up for it right now, maybe another day.  I really must excuse myself, Suzume-chan.  I didn't sleep very well last night and I have some house calls to make today," Ayame said with the best smile she could fake.  Suzume didn't believe her in the slightest but left cheerfully enough anyway.  Sliding the shoji shut behind her sister's retreating back, Ayame exhaled slowly.

            Things hadn't been the same since Grandfather died.  Oh Hell, everything had gone downhill since Ken-nii had died and taken Kaoru with him.  Ayame had become angry after that, rebellious.  No one seemed to want to stay.  Everyone always left her alone as soon as they found something better.  Who was she but a burden, a dose of reality?  It made her wonder if she should be alive herself, and what she possibly had to live for.  Everyone was busy with their own lives, too busy to pay any mind to her.  Even Megumi, the woman who had cared for her after Grandfather had died in his sleep on a quiet Spring night.  Ayame had run off to Aizu that very morning that she discovered him still in his futon, stiff and looking nothing like himself.  She had left a twelve year old Suzume behind with Yahiko at the dojo and turned a deaf ear to Suzume's pitiful cries.  With tears in her eyes she had found Megumi's new residence in Aizu, had stared for several moments at the sign outside her clinic that read 'Sagara Megumi Clinic' and wept.  Sobs had spilled from her when a young assistant had opened the shoji at her sharp knock.  Megumi, taken aback, had invited her in and given her soup and tea.

            Megumi had not taken it upon herself to ask questions yet, waiting for the girl to calm herself down.  Megumi had guessed that Ayame's puberty would make her rebellious and inclined to run off should Genzai deny her some sort of privilege.  Humoring the young teen she had smiled as she offered more tea in a grown up way.  But her smile was quickly wiped away when Ayame blurted her news, sugar-coating nothing, even going so far as to describe the smell wafting from Genzai-sensei's bedroom when she walked past on her way to breakfast.

            Megumi had acted quickly, taking Ayame under her roof and sending for Suzume from Tokyo.  Sanosuke-san had taken it all in stride, letting his wife act as she thought best and even trying to offer comfort and understanding to the two girls.  Suzume had taken it gladly, seeing him as a second chance for a father she never knew.  Ayame, however, had known better.  Sanosuke was loathe seeing them arrive and unpack their things in his comfortable home and would be glad to see them go.  Ayame chose to ignore the sincerity her heart detected in his eyes and the pain reflected there when she had decided to move back to Tokyo.  Who wanted her, anyway?  No one.

            Ayame knelt onto her unrolled futon, gathering her emotions together before setting off to the clinic.  Feeling sorry for herself was something she hated to do, but felt inclined to do so all the time now.

*

            "Well, I saw the young man in town today and he looked very modern.  Very handsome too and exotic!  His eye color was breath-taking.  I seem to recall you knowing him some time ago, Ayame-chan.  I wish I could remember his name at the moment," Ayame's patient babbled incessantly, and who could blame her?  She was an old woman living alone with grandchildren far away in Osaka.  Ayame had actually grown quite fond of the woman, who suffered from painful arthritis and even more painful loneliness.  Often she would pretend to be suffering from more bouts of pain than usual just for a house call.  Ayame saw through it, but didn't mind it.

            The woman continued without taking a breath, paying no attention to Ayame at all.  Despite herself, Ayame found herself interested in the woman's ramblings today.

            "Green eyes!  Can you believe that?  And such a strange green, too.  Never seen anything like it.  He must be foreign, but he looks as if he has a Japanese spirit.  Can you remember his name, Ayame-chan?"  No, she couldn't, and she said so.  She didn't like remembering anymore.

            "He asked Tanaka-san from the flower stand if he could direct him to the Kamiya Dojo.  You used to spend a lot of time there.  I wonder what he could possibly want with Myoujin Yahiko?  Certainly not lessons, he had no children and was much too old to just begin.  Why, when my son was—" but Ayame had drowned out her voice, trying to control her flaring emotions at the mention of the Kamiya Dojo.  She never went there anymore if she could help it.  The memories...

            Ayame finished up and packed her medicine chest again, bidding farewell to the old lady who seemed sad to see her go.  But Ayame had a mission.


	3. A Stranger: Not So Strange After All

            Part II

            Suzume, now safely tucked behind closed doors, let her tears fall.  She had choked them back all the way home from her older sister's house and had a terribly sore throat as a result.

            She had done her best, damn it!  She tried so hard to be a happier person, trying to coax Ayame out of the bitter and stiff shell she had created for herself.  Suzume pounded a fist against her bedroom wall, ignoring the sharp pain that ran through her hand.

            "Suzume-chan?  Is that you?"  Her husband.  Oh, she didn't want him to see her like this, so vulnerable and weepy over nothing!  She wiped her tears furiously with the back of her arm and plastered a smile on her face.  Natsu's footsteps came closer, quickly as if he feared for her.  The shoji slid open so sharply it was almost pushed off of its track and Suzume met the concerned eyes of her husband.

            "Suzume-chan?  Are you okay in here?" he asked, seeing through her façade and detecting immediately that she had been crying.  Suzume did not answer, instead she found herself walking quickly to the other end of the room, busying herself with opening drawers and toying with the flower arrangement beside the futon.  Pretending as if nothing at all was the matter, that was her game.

            She had to survive too, didn't she?

            "What did she say to you, Suzume?  What did she say that has you so upset?" he asked angrily, once again resisting the urge to storm over to the young female doctor's clinic and shaking some manners into her.

            "Natsu dear, always concerned over nothing!  She just wasn't feeling well today, that's all.  I'm only crying because I hurt my ankle a bit on the walk home," Suzume lied smoothly, ignoring her guilt.  Natsu narrowed his eyes suspiciously while glancing down at her ankle.

            "Which one?" he asked, coming over to examine it himself.

            "Oh fine!  It's just that I can never seem to crack her defenses.  She pretends I'm only a nosy neighbor, when I'm the only real family she has left now!  Why can't she be my sister again?" Suzume broke into sobs again, covering her face to hide her shame at the outburst.

            Natsu's arms encircled her in a warm embrace and he dropped a tender kiss onto her earlobe.  He said nothing for a while, letting her cry it out.  When her chokes and gasps began to subside, he spoke again.

            "Ayame-san cannot be a sister to you right now.  She has no love in her heart, only hate for herself and the way life has cheated her out of something everyone else has attained so easily.  My mother told me these things; she had a brother who lived in darkness and despair for a very long time.  All you can do is let her know that you are here and she has your love."

            She could not respond to that, her throat was too constricted and she feared she may explode into tears again if she uttered a word.  Her husband only tightened his hold on her and smiled gently.

            "Did you tell her our news?  Does she know yet?"  Suzume shook her head, looking into his eyes so she wouldn't have to explain it, hoping that he would get her message through the fear in her eyes.  Natsu sighed and placed a warm and gentle hand on her abdomen, caressing the life underneath.

            "What if my baby is dead, too?  What if I—" Natsu hushed her with a passionate kiss, but Suzume saw through it, felt the fear so strong in him that it made her heart wrench.

            His tears wet her skin as he made love to her.

*

Ayame strolled leisurely through the market, stopping to gaze at the stands and shops.  Mentally she tried to convince herself that she was _not headed in the direction of the dojo, that she had __not let her curiosity get the better of her and she most certainly __wasn't interested in gossip about the Kamiya Dojo._

            Of course, she wasn't a bit surprised when she found herself standing outside the Kamiya gate, her empty tofu bucket still clutched in her hand.  Even from her position outside she could hear the shrieks and laughter of children playing inside.  She ignored the tug at her heart.

            _Those sounds used to come from me._

_            Steeling herself, she knocked on the gate.  She waited a mere two seconds before deciding they were busy and started to walk quickly away, nearly jogging.  She had knocked, hadn't she?  She wasn't a coward!_

            Before she could even get five steps away the gate creaked open and Yahiko stood before her, at first not believing his eyes.  Realization dawned slowly on him and he smiled a bit awkwardly.

            "Konnichiwa, Inoue Ayame-san!"  she winced at the formality, but bowed and smiled in kind.  The ritual was interrupted, however, by a small boy running through Yahiko's legs and nearly knocking him over.  Another boy followed close behind, and soon the chase was neck and neck.

            "I'm gonna get'chu!"  One of them shouted, and the other laughed derisively.

            "Hey!  That hurt!" Yahiko protested, rubbing his leg and scowling like a petulant boy.  Ayame found herself laughing for the first time in a very long time.  Things hadn't changed so much for everyone else, it seemed.  Only for her.

            A feminine voice sounded from beyond the gate, calling her children back but to no avail.  Tsubame came into sight and gasped quietly at the sight of Ayame.

            Masculine laughter followed her, coming from someone Ayame did not recognize at first, but somewhere deep in her memory a young face emerged.

            Her heart beat became rapid and she didn't know why, for no rational thought entered her mind.  The only sound that escaped her was a small whisper of a name.

            "Yutarou?"


	4. Memories of Japan

            Part III

            "Ayame-chan?"  The question was asked nervously, as if he could sense the changes in her and didn't know what to think of them.  Ayame gaped at the man before her, remembering him only as a petulant boy, then briefly as an awkward teenager.  She remembered him hoisting Suzume onto his shoulders while she stared up at them with an odd mesh of contentment and envy.

            The man standing before her now was tall and lean, not the gangly all-legs he had been upon returning to Japan in his early teens.  His light brown hair was still shaggy, but neatly trimmed despite that.  He seemed masculine yet possessed a grace only a swordsman could have and a confidence that did not transfer over into arrogance.  Ayame could tell by looking at him, for she had met many arrogant men.  She had married a man so arrogant as to believe he could find happiness anywhere, even in a woman like her.

            They were interrupted by Yahiko, clearing his throat uncomfortably.  Tsubame stood near, her eyes on the children and unaware of any deeper meaning behind the meeting.

            "Yahiko, I came only to say hello.  I didn't know you had a visitor," Ayame prompted subtly, waiting for Yahiko to introduce them more formally.

            "Tsukayama Yutarou, this is Inoue Ayame.  You guys know each other, I don't know why I'm bothering—"he was interrupted by a sharp jab in the side by Tsubame, who smiled graciously at both Ayame and Yutarou.

            "Won't you come inside, Ayame?  You haven't visited in a long time, and the children would love to see you," she said quietly, a little nervously.  Tsubame had never been comfortable flaunting her happiness in front of people who had none.  She would find herself flustered, always saying the wrong thing.

            Although Tsubame would never admit it in a million years, she was relieved to see Ayame shake her head.

            "I just dropped by on my way to the market.  I'll see you—sometime," Ayame said hurriedly, bowed, and saw herself through the gate.

            "But the market is on the other si—" Yahiko was interrupted by another sharp elbow to the rib, courtesy of his wife.

*

            Yutarou had tried to feign interest in the goings-on around him that evening, but he was distracted.  The sight of little Ayame as a woman grown had greatly disturbed him, and he had no idea why.  Perhaps it reminded him of what he had missed, his travels around the world keeping him from some sort of life he could have had here in Japan.

            But that was ridiculous.  He had no real family here, only friends.  He had friends everywhere.

            Kaoru-san had been his teacher but she was gone now.  Himura-san had been a mentor but he was gone too.  So who did that leave?  What was left for him here?

            Not a damn thing, that's what.

            When he thought about it, he really had no idea why he had come back.  Something had always drawn him here, but he resisted for many years.  The news of Kaoru and Kenshin had reached him, many weeks after.  Sanosuke's return and marriage to Megumi had also reached him.  Still he had not returned.  He had jotted down a note of condolence for parents lost so soon all the while trying to stay his shaking hand and sent it to Kenji, whom he had barely known as a baby.  He had also sent a wedding gift to Sagara, picked out by a woman friend who knew of such dealings.  He hadn't had any clue on what to purchase.  It was an awkward relationship he had with these people, made worse now upon his return.

            Yahiko and Tsubame had been wonderful hosts, welcoming him into their family and showering him with kindness.  He had played with their children, reveling in their laughter and wishing he could be a true family member in every sense of the word.  But he felt like a stranger now.

            "Yutarou?  What are you thinking?" Tsubame asked from across the table, noticing his far-off look and untouched plate before him.  Yutarou's smile was an embarrassed one.

            "So much has changed here since I was gone.  I never expected Ayame to grow up," he said with a laugh, but Yahiko and Tsubame looked at each other, then at Yutarou sadly.

            "What is it?" Yutarou asked, ashamed with himself for making the light atmosphere into a tense one.

            "Ayame-san has been grown up for a long time now," Tsubame said evasively, then offered him sake as a distraction.  Yahiko heartily accepted the cup she offered him.  Yutarou should have taken the hint to let the matter drop, but found his curiosity was stronger than propriety.

            "Is she married?  Her name is Inoue now, isn't it?" he asked.  Tsubame glanced down at the table, so Yahiko took up the thread.

            "Ayame-san is a widow.  Her husband died a couple of years ago.  I'm not positive on the details, but he died violently.  After that Ayame hasn't spoken to any of us very often.  We were very surprised to see her around here today.  She probably heard you were in town and her nose led her here," Yahiko said, a serious expression blanketing his features.  Yutarou could tell that much was left unsaid, but let it go, enjoying his sake.

*

            A bottle of sake later, Yutarou and Yahiko were completely out-of-their-minds drunk.  At first they had joked and laughed boisterously, recalling funny stories of times together and apart, but now they drank in silence, comfortable with the dead air between them.  Tsubame and the children had retired hours earlier and the crisp night air leaked in through an open shoji.

            A feeling of contentment seeped into Yutarou's bones.

            "Yahiko.  Are you happy with family life?  I mean—do you find it boring at all?" Yutarou asked softly, unable to keep his drunken musings to himself for too long.  Yahiko didn't look at him, instead he reached for the bottle and drained it of its last drops.

            "Yes and no.  My life has a certain routine, but it's a routine I like.  It's not a life they write books about, but when I look around I feel proud.  Maybe that sounds stupid to you, someone who's seen everything," Yahiko said, then let a mighty belch escape his throat.

            "No.  Not stupid at all," Yutarou said softly, looking down at his hands so Yahiko wouldn't see the look in his eyes.

            These chapters are pretty short.  They'll get longer, I promise.


	5. Note

Bleh. I can't seem to upload my chapter in correct format. Until I figure out (in my slow way) what's up, you can read this chapter and previous chapters at http://www.angelfire.com/emo/rkfanfics . Thanks so much for reading! 


	6. Birthday Gift

            Ayame walked toward her clinic in silence.  The sun had not yet risen fully, Tokyo was still shrouded in darkness.  Few people were on the streets, only merchants setting up shop for the day or drunks who had fallen asleep against buildings and hadn't roused themselves yet.

            When she had rolled herself off of her futon two hours earlier with a groan she had found herself immediately recalling the day before and whom she had seen at the Kamiya Dojo.  Yutarou's handsome form of today did not match up with her memories.  He had been skinny, short in stature and the angles of his face had been sharp.  Now the angles had softened into a pleasing and gentle face that had almost made Ayame forget herself.  For a split second she had even forgotten to feel guilty about the man she had married...

            Ayame stopped short at the front of her clinic, debating with herself on whether to wake the sleeping man who blocked her doorway nicely or to simply kick him in the gut.  His face was hidden under his arm, his body curled up like a sleeping cat.  She peeked underneath to get a look at his face, just to make sure he wasn't someone she knew.

            "Benjiro!" she seethed, lifting her foot and stomping on his hand.  A terrible shrieking came from his huddled form and he jumped to his feet.  He balled his throbbing hand into a fist and stared at it in horror.

            "By the Gods!  You're evil, Ayame-san!" he screamed, drawing the attention of the few people on the street.  When they saw who he was they disregarded him, used to his many outbursts.

            "How many times must I tell you not to bother me?  Unless you're on the brink of death, I'll not tolerate your presence here," she said harshly, sitting on the wooden porch to remove her wooden geta.  Her movements were slow and deliberate, enjoying Benjiro's dramatics.  Benjiro gaped at her, as if this were the first time he had heard her say such a thing to him.

            "Ayame-san, the great female doctor of Tokyo, you would turn away a sick man like me?  A man who has no family to care for him and no warm futon to sleep on?"

            "You've tried that one on me before and it didn't work then.  What makes you think I'll buy it now?" Ayame replied, even as she ushered the great oaf inside and gestured for him to sit down.

            "But I am ill!  My head is pounding and I feel like I'm going to vomit—"

            "Ill?  You had too much to drink last night, as always.  Perhaps the pain in your hand will clear your head a bit," she said, extracting an envelope of tea she kept just for him from her cabinet.  She heard him groan and looked back to see him holding his head, his eyes closed tightly against the pain.  Ayame hid her smile and made sure when she turned back that her face was convincingly stern.

            "Say what you like, Ayame-san.  Berate me, insult me and stomp on my hand.  Just make this damnable headache go away!" he moaned, dramatically flopping his too-thin form onto the floor.

            "Ohayou!" sounded an overly cheerful voice from the entrance.  Ayame's young assistant walked into the clinic, carrying a heavy bundle but smiling ear-to-ear. 

            "Ohayou, Machi-chan," Ayame nodded to the young girl.  Although her cheerful demeanor sometimes confounded Ayame, she found the young girl to be a worthy assistant.  Not only was she punctual and knowledgeable, she was also very passionate about medicine.

            "Ayame-san, I brought you a late gift for your birthday.  It is from my family and I," Machi said, bowing and presenting the bundle to Ayame.  Ayame stared at Machi, confused again by the girl's generosity and overall _nice personality.  Ayame reached out slowly to accept the tightly wrapped gift.  The fabric that covered it was a pale pink color._

            "Machi-chan, you know I don't like for anyone to make anything of my birthday.  Tell your mother that she's not to stick her nose into my affairs," Ayame said, scowling.  Machi laughed at this and slapped Ayame's arm playfully.

            Ayame hid her smile with a grimace as she gently unwrapped her birthday gift.  Underneath the layer of fabric she found _more fabric.  This time it was a beautiful crimson.  When she displayed the whole thing, she found it was a beautiful kimono, the likes of which she had never owned._

            Ayame did not look at Machi.  She knew the girl would see the unshed tears in her brown eyes.  Machi seemed to know and laid a gentle hand on Ayame's shoulder.

            "I know it's very elaborate, but my family thought you deserved this.  They wanted to thank you for giving me a job here and buying herbs from them for your medicines.  If not for you, they wouldn't be able to afford something like this," Machi explained, wiping a stray tear from her own eye.

            Ayame did not consider herself to be charitable.  She only lived her life in a way she thought her grandfather would approve of.  Buying herbs from the desolate Arakawa family five years ago seemed to be a calculated business move to her.  They were willing to sell them cheaply, and they were of a fine quality.  It had nothing to do with the dirt smudged children that ran about the front yard, playing with a medium-sized dog.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the little twelve-year-old girl who had sat with her mother across from Ayame and asked a thousand questions about doctors and healing.

            And it certainly had had nothing to do with the fact that the girl resembled Suzume-chan.

            "That's very pretty.  How much did it cost?" Benjiro piped up, reaching to touch the soft fabric.  Ayame jerked it away from him and shot him a deadly glare.  Machi only giggled.  At the sound of it, Benjiro groaned and held his still-aching head in his hands.

            Yutarou walked absently through Tokyo, evoking memories of his childhood that he hadn't allowed himself to think about for some time.

            The streets of London and New York City did not compare to this.  This wonderful city of his homeland that held more charm than any theatre or café in the world was more interesting.  The numerous women he had courted did not compare to the beauty of the women he saw hurrying by him, their dark hair shining in the sunlight and their kimonos hugging them perfectly.  Although he found foreign beauty exciting and wild, this beauty was comforting and far sexier.

            The image of Ayame-chan's beautifully matured face floated before his vision.  Thinking it a figment of his imagination he shook his head subtly only to discover that it wasn't a figment at all.  Ayame was not ten feet away from him, walking into Genzai's old clinic.  She hadn't seemed to notice him, however.  He would have to fix that.  Yutarou certainly wasn't used to going unnoticed.

            He followed her inside the clinic and found a certain degree of pandemonium.  Patients sat in the front room, nursing various wounds and illnesses.  A young girl scurried about organizing it all and trying to decide who was in direr need of help than others.

            The girl spotted him when he entered and blushed red.  He smiled slightly, for he was very aware of how handsome he was to women.  She rushed over to him.

            "Pardon me..?" she started, looking at him expectantly.  Yutarou took a moment to realize what the silent question she was asking was.

            "Oh!  Please excuse me.  I am Tsukayama Yutarou," he said, giving her his most charming smile.  Her blush seemed to deepen and she bowed.  "I am Arakawa Machi."

            "I hate to take up your precious time, Arakawa-san.  I am not ill or injured.  I've actually come to call on an old friend of mine.  Inoue Ayame is here, isn't she?" he asked, glancing over Machi's shoulder and hoping to catch sight of the woman.

            "I'm terribly sorry, Tsukayama-san.  The doctor is very busy at the moment, as you can see.  Inoue-san does not accept visitors while she is helping patients," Machi explained in a tone of voice that showed she regretted informing him of this.  Yutarou smiled winningly and bowed deeply.

            "I understand completely.  Please tell her I was looking for her and if she so wishes, she can find me at the Kamiya Dojo," Yutarou said politely, brushing imaginary lint off of his fine Western suit.  The girl mumbled that she would and hurried off again to escort a patient to a back room.  Yutarou assumed that Ayame was back there waiting.  He hoped that she had heard him and knew who he was.

            He liked to think that she did.


End file.
